


When the Night Was Full of Terrors

by fabionprewett22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabionprewett22/pseuds/fabionprewett22
Summary: Petunia held him as she should have before.
Kudos: 4





	When the Night Was Full of Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came from listening to The Night We Met by Lord Huron. It's an idea dump, a need to play out an itch.

The front door opened with a soft but audible click. 

“Dudders is that you?”

Putting the sponge back in the sink, Petunia turned to the sitting room. It was always hard to hear at this time of night. Vernon would watch his programs at such an atrocious volume.

As she made to turn completely past the dining table, a green light flashed. She didn’t scream. Not from shock but from some part within her that knew she should remain quiet. 

The third step on the stairs creaked as someone made their way to the second floor. 

“Harry.” Her voice a mere whimper. 

She can’t recall much from that moment but she remembers reaching for the second drawer down from the edge of the counter. She gripped the cold metal in her fist. For all Petunia was in life, she wasn’t stupid. She knew what might come when she read the old man’s letter all those years ago.

As she went for the door to the hall, watching her own feet to ensure they made no sound, she heard a cackle that rested deep within her bones.

A woman then. The thought made her feel neither better or worse. 

Harry fought. Oh she knew he would always fight.

Petunia ascended the stairs, one step at a time, willing herself not to look at the figure on the couch. The Telly still blasting as if nothing had changed in the small house. 

Her feet took each step to the rhythm of broken furniture.

Green. Red. Purple. Blue. Like the afterglow of fireworks. 

His room was the first in the hall. Petunia clung to the wallpaper, summoning whatever vestiges of bravery she had inside.

The woman cackled once more, almost girlish, and Petunia swung around the doorframe.

He was there on the floor. It was too dark to see him clearly but the woman, the woman was standing there. So Petunia aimed and she fired. And she fired. And she fired.

The woman made no sounds as she went down. Nothing. She just fell.

Shaking, gasping, Petunia threw the horrid object down the hall. She stepped over the woman, gingerly, some modicum of propriety and decorum remained. 

“Aunt Petunia, I’m so sorry.”

The voice was almost too quiet to hear properly. She sank in front of him, the boy, Lily’s Harry. For the first time since he was a baby on her door, Petunia held him. She took his head and placed it in her lap. She could see the gash across his chest, she could see the blood. She knew what it meant. So she did the only thing she could think of and she held him to her as his breathing slowed. 

“Sush boy. This isn’t a time to say ridiculous things”

For hours she sat there with him. With the boy. With Lily’s boy. With Harry.

They found her there on the floor. Two others. A man, bald with a gold earring, and a woman, her hair a dull mousy brown.


End file.
